


better call saul!

by undead_bunniez



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Boredom, Breakfast, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undead_bunniez/pseuds/undead_bunniez
Summary: "He sobers up just enough as the phone begins to ring to wonder what the hell he’s thinking, or if he’s thinking at all. He decides the answer is no, clearly not. He groans in exasperation with himself, but doesn’t hang up. Why is he doing this? Because the fucking matchbook told him to?"© undead_bunniez 2021
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman & Jesse Pinkman, Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Jesse Pinkman
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

The light of the TV washes over the living room in a cool glow, illuminating Jesse’s face. He’s bored. Old nature documentaries lose their charm really fucking quickly, but nothing else catches his interest when he intermittently flips through the channels. Such is late-night TV programming. They probably don’t expect people to be awake staring at their screens at this time of night. Most people sleep. Jesse chuckles at the thought, tapping his fingers against his knees rhythmically.

He can’t sleep tonight, though the restlessness is nothing new. He hasn’t been able to sleep soundly for god knows how long. Maybe smoking a joint would help calm his nerves? Yeah, yeah. Good idea.

Jesse gets up from his station in front of the TV set and returns with the joint between his lips. He pulls the lighter out of his pocket and flicks it, but there’s no flame. He tries again. Shit.

He lets out an inconvenienced groan as he pads over to the kitchen. It takes him fishing around in a couple drawers before he finds what he's searching for.

Plopping back down on the couch, he flips the matchbook open and strikes one, bringing the flickering flame up to inspect it before touching it to the end of the joint. The harsh orange heat is a nice contrast to the empty darkness of the house at night.

He drags in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the thick smoke and letting it rest a moment before exhaling slowly, a hazy cloud diffusing throughout the room. He already feels more at ease.

He sits there, smoking and staring blankly at some show about the ocean. He’s not really paying attention, but there’s footage of a stingray, and he nods to himself. He likes those. He takes another puff, sinking back further into the cushions.

He eyes the matchbook he threw on the coffee table. It’s one of Saul’s, emblazoned with his slogan and a picture of his stupid face. Jesse chuckles, finding this massively entertaining. “Better call Saul,” he mumbles out with another smoky laugh.

Soon enough, he’s stubbing out the spent joint in an ashtray, pondering what to do now. The show he was mildly interested in seems to have ended, the screen suddenly full of lush greenery rather than shots of the ocean. For some reason this gets on his nerves, so Jesse grabs the remote and turns it off, dropping the remote haphazardly on the cushion beside him. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, finding that it’s 2:37 am. Fuck, he’s still not tired somehow.

He sets his phone down on the table next to the matchbook, staring blankly at it for a second. “Better call Saul,” he mutters again as he picks up the flimsy thing, flipping it around between his fingers absentmindedly.

The silence in the room is deafening, but sleep still seems far away, even in his newly relaxed state. He watches the bright colors of the matchbook as it weaves between his fingers.

“Better call Saul…” Huh. Maybe?..

Jesse certainly doesn’t think this is a great idea, but it’s something to do. Before he can give his brain time to catch up, he’s opening his phone and calling Saul’s contact.

He sobers up just enough as the phone begins to ring to wonder what the hell he’s thinking, or if he’s thinking at all. He decides the answer is no, clearly not. He groans in exasperation with himself, but doesn’t hang up. Why is he doing this? Because the fucking matchbook told him to?

He doesn’t expect Saul to pick up, given the ungodly hour of the night, but he does, and Jesse suddenly feels like even more of an asshole. He just woke him up for literally no reason. He can’t even come up with a fake reason, his head foggy from the weed.

“Hello?” Saul grumbles. Jesse breathes in sharply at the sound of Saul’s sleep-stricken voice. It’s lower and substantially more gravelly than usual, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t do something for him. Not that he thinks of his lawyer that way, because he doesn’t... except for right now, apparently.

Fuck, this is weird and he hasn’t even said anything yet. Just apologize and hang up, apologize and hang up…

Jesse clears his throat. “Hey, uh, fuck, sorry man. Didn’t mean to wake you up or anything…” He fiddles absently with a hoodie string, the other hand occupied with his cell.

Saul chuckles. “So you just assumed I’d be awake at, what is it, 3 in the morning?” Fuck. His voice.

Jesse rubs at his forehead, trying to figure out how to explain the night’s events in a way that makes him out to be less of a braindead stoner than he is. He can’t think of one, so he just starts telling the truth.

“I, uh, couldn’t sleep, and I kinda just. Called you?.. I don’t know why, it just happened.” He pauses.

“Okay,” he starts again, “I know why, but it’s really fucking dumb.”

“You woke me up for this, so I’m all ears. Tell your dumb tale.” Jesse can hear the smirk in Saul’s voice and can’t help but chuckle. What a dork.

“Well. I couldn’t sleep. And nothing was on TV, so I decided to light up, y’know, to help me sleep? But my lighter was dead, and I had to use a match, so, yeah. Blame your stupid slogan, yo. Not my fault.”

“A testament to the powers of marketing!” Saul’s laugh pours through the line, and Jesse feels inexplicably warm. “Glad those things are proving effective, ‘cause they aren’t as cheap as you’d think, especially since we have to buy ‘em in bulk.”

A thought pops into Jesse’s head and roots itself there - he wants Saul to hold him. He thinks he could probably sleep that way.

“I should probably let you get back to bed, huh?” He ventures, aware of and embarrassed by the hint of hopefulness in his voice.

“I’m probably not getting any more sleep tonight, honestly,” Saul says plainly, and Jesse feels like a tool.

“Ah, shit. ‘M sorry, Saul.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Jesse can tell he means it, and for that he’s grateful. Saul doesn’t dick him around. He’s genuine, transparent - at least more so than most of the people in his life.

Jesse wants Saul here. Maybe Saul would sleep better with company too?

He’s getting restless again, so he brings his hoodie string up to his mouth to chew on it, leg starting to bounce nervously. Fuck it. He’s asking, and if Saul rejects him, he can just pretend he was so high he doesn’t remember it.

“Hey, um. Saul?” Jesse winces at how timid he sounds.

“Yeah?” He can hear Saul’s breathing and it’s making it impossible to focus.

“Hypothetically - strictly hypothetically… would you cuddle me? Like, spoon me?”

Saul chokes, and Jesse’s glad the other man can’t see his face right now because he’s blushing like an absolute fool.

“Uh, what’s this about? Because I love a good cuddle as much as the next guy, but this seems totally out of the blue, kid.”

Jesse takes a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. It’s not as effective as he was hoping. His leg continues to bounce of its own accord.

“I just - I can’t sleep, and I sleep better when someone’s, y’know, holding me…” He knows he sounds childish, and he’s ready to be laughed at and humiliated. He knows it’s coming.

But Saul doesn’t laugh. He hears movement on Saul’s end, springs, as though he’s shifting in bed. Sitting up, maybe. “Yeah, that makes sense. Definitely. But, I mean, why are you asking me that? No offense, Jesse, but surely there’s people you’d rather snuggle up to than your lawyer.” He’s not sure if it’s the brain fog from his smoke sesh or if Saul is fishing for something here, but he decides there’s no harm in opening up some more. He’s already having this weird ass conversation, so he figures he may as well keep going.

“Nah. I don’t know how to explain it, you just seem… warm, I guess? I bet you’re a damn good big spoon…” He laughs nervously in an attempt to easy some of the awkward tension, but he doesn’t think Saul notices or cares.

“So I’ve been told, kid.” He pauses and considers the implications of what the younger man is saying. “Hey, you’re really having that rough of a time sleeping?” The concern in Saul’s voice brings the blush back to Jesse’s face. He hums in agreement.

Jesse hears Saul swallow, and holy fuck that’s hot. That shouldn’t be hot! He tries to bring himself back to what Saul’s saying, but by the time he’s focused again Saul’s done talking. Shit.

“Sorry, what’d you say, man? I kinda zoned out.”

Saul laughs fully, and Jesse feels all warm inside again. He really wishes that would stop happening, but if he’s being honest he definitely doesn’t.

“I said, if you want, I could come over and help you get some sleep… hypothetically, of course.”

Jesse tries and fails to curb his excitement. “Oh, for real?” The movement of his leg speeds up, and he tries desperately to still himself.

Saul clears his throat. “If you want, yeah.” Jesse tries not to read into the uptilt of his tone there.

“Uh, yeah. Cool, man. I’ll, uh, text you my address?” Jesse knows his voice gives away his nervousness. But this situation is super fucking bizarre, after all, so he tells himself he has every right to be nervous. He called his lawyer in the middle of the night and invited him over to cuddle. And he’s actually coming over… yeah. He can freak out a little.

“Okay. See you then.” The line disconnects, and Jesse sits there stunned for a minute or two before sending his address.

What the fuck now?

Maybe he should attempt to tidy up? But his house isn’t really dirty or cluttered. He throws away the few pieces of trash scattered on the coffee table and dumps out the ashtray, but now he’s back to square one, sitting there in the dark trying to keep himself occupied until his guest arrives.

Brush his teeth?

Woah. He pushes away the implications and questions that one raises, but gets up to do it anyway. Cuddling involves proximity, so yeah, brushing his teeth is totally warranted. He definitely thought of it for that reason. Proximity.

He sits back down on the futon and waits, vibrating with anxiety as he stares at the black TV screen.

Some time later, Jesse jumps at the sound of knuckles on wood. He rushes to the door and opens it to see his guest.

Until now, it never occurred to Jesse that he’s only ever seen Saul in overly colorful suits. The version of Saul standing at his door looks like something out of an alternate reality. He wears sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and oh holy shit. Arms. He has nice arms.

Jesse realizes he’s staring. “Uh. Come in?” He didn’t mean to ask it like a question. He stands back to let in his guest, closing the door behind them.

Jesse has no clue what the fuck to do next. He’s still transfixed by the sight of Saul’s arms and trying desperately not to look it.

Lucky for Jesse, Saul is well versed in diffusing uncomfortable situations.

“You’ve got a nice place, kid. So, where to?”

Jesse points in the direction of his bedroom, then realizes he’s still fully dressed. “Oh. I gotta get ready for bed still - pajamas and shit, y’know? I’ll be right back.” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck before making his way upstairs and out of sight.

Saul sits down tentatively on the futon, looking around. It’s dark, but he gets a good enough impression of the place. It’s homey in a way that strikes Saul as peculiar for a drug-addicted twenty-something.

Jesse comes bounding down the stairs, now donned in a black long-sleeve and flannel pajama bottoms. He scratches at his neck again.

“So, bed? Or, uh, that’s a futon.” He gestures at what Saul definitely noticed was a futon.

“Your call, kid.”

Jesse wills himself not to blush. Since when did Saul calling him “kid” have any effect on him, other than maybe mild irritation? He’s blaming it on the weed.

“Well, uh.” He hesitates. “Bed’s comfier, but the living room’s where the TV’s at. Not that there’s anything good on anyway. Plus I'm trying to sleep. So, bed I guess.”

Saul chuckles as he follows Jesse to the bedroom, and Jesse knows he’s laughing at him. He doesn’t really mind, though.

Jesse flops down onto the bed, scooting over to one side and patting the mattress. Saul gets in with surprisingly little hesitation, lying comfortably on his back. Jesse turns on his side to face him.

“This is weird as hell, huh?” Jesse tries to break the tension, but Saul seems not to be feeling it at all. Either that or he’s great at pretending. Jesse reasons it’s probably a bit of both.

“Not really.” Saul flips onto his side. “Now c’mere.”

Jesse's heart rate speeds up exponentially as he slides himself over to Saul, turning to face away from him. Saul wraps his arms around him and curls in tight, and Jesse sighs contentedly, reaching up to hold on to Saul’s wrists.

“I was fuckin’ right. You’re a world class big spoon.”

Saul laughs and Jesse can feel his breath on his ear. He closes his eyes and tries not to let it get to him, which is a mostly successful tactic, at least until Saul speaks again and the process restarts.

“Goodnight, Jesse.” Saul pulls a blanket up over the two of them. Jesse doesn’t know if he’s ever felt as safe or as comfortable as he does right now, but he knows he never wants this to end. He nuzzles closer to Saul and focuses on releasing his tension. He’s safe.

Saul’s arms are strong and fuzzy around him, and he’s warm all over. He can feel the rise and fall of the other man’s chest behind him, and it lulls him to the edge of sleep, eyes falling closed peacefully.

He swears he feels lips make gentle contact with the back of his head as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this little feel-good fic! this doesn't really fit into canon and there are no other characters bc i wrote it in a flurry in one day lol. i just wanted some sauljesse fluff!!
> 
> also i'm thinking of maybe doing a part two?
> 
> feedback is greatly appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi here's part two. enjoy :)

Jesse wakes up slowly, stretching out his arms and legs as he stares at the ceiling waiting for his eyes to come into focus. When he turns over, he remembers that there was someone else there last night. Saul. But he’s not there now. Shit.

It takes a few moments for him to wake up enough to register the sounds coming from downstairs, presumably the kitchen. Wait. No way is Saul doing what Jesse thinks he’s doing, right?

He decides the only way to find out is to go see for himself. Plus, he’s thirsty. He makes his way down to the first floor, both intrigued and terrified to see what the hell is happening down there.

He rounds the corner of the staircase and is greeted with a pleasant scene - Saul is whisking something in a bowl. Jesse's pretty sure he smells cinnamon.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and watches as the other man finishes whisking, fishes a slice of bread from the bag, and soaks it in the mixture. He throws it in the pan and it starts to sizzle, at which point Jesse interrupts.

“Yo, are you making french toast?” He doesn’t mean to sound incredulous, but it certainly comes out that way.

Saul turns his head to look at him. “Bingo! Someone give the kid a prize,” and then he gets right back to it, a satisfied smile on his face.

Jesse can’t help thinking he woke up in a different dimension or something. Maybe the Saul Goodman that wears sweatpants and cuddles sleepless clients abducted him and brought him to the mirror dimension. He thinks he’d be cool with that if it means french toast. He hasn’t eaten a homemade breakfast in forever, and french toast happens to be his favorite.

“Hey, uh, you know you don’t have to do that, right?” Jesse sure as hell wants him to, because the house is starting to smell delicious, but that’s besides the point. It’s about agency.

Saul scoffs. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted to.” He pauses, then continues “Besides, I like french toast, and your breakfast situation is pretty dire. What do you normally do for breakfast?”

Jesse scratches his neck and reluctantly answers, “Smoke a bowl?”

That gets a big laugh from Saul, and Jesse is cool with that.

He sneaks around Saul to grab a glass of water, then settles in the living room, sitting and watching Saul move around the kitchen. And if watching him doing something so domestic and menial sends butterflies aflutter in Jesse’s stomach, so what? He sips at his water and lets them do their thing.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” Saul yells from the other room. Jesse thinks it’s fortunate that Saul’s busy, because the warmth of his face would give him away in a second.

Jesse doesn’t respond, just turns on the TV. Again with the fucking nature documentaries! This one’s about the savannah, and Jesse honestly doesn’t give enough of a shit to try looking for something else. He leaves it on for background noise but finds his gaze wandering back over to Saul every time he tries to focus on it.

After an indeterminate amount of time passes in a comfortable state of quiet, Saul comes in bearing two heaping plates. He sets them on the coffee table, then hisses. “Ah. Syrup! You have syrup, right?” Jesse nods. “Okay, one sec.” He darts back off to the kitchen and, after multiple cabinets can be heard opening and closing, returns with the bottle, raising it up in the air like a trophy or something. "Huzzah!" Jesse fucking chortles.

He drenches his plate in syrup and digs in eagerly, moaning around a mouthful of sugary goodness. “Dude, this is the fuckin’ bomb! You’re, like, magical or someshit.” He promptly goes back to shoveling food into his face, and Saul grins.

“I’m good for more than just my amazing legal skills and superior cuddling capabilities, then?”

Jesse’s mouth is full, but he playfully socks Saul on the shoulder and hopes that serves as an appropriate response.

The two eat in near-silence, watching the program about life in the African desert. Jesse still isn’t paying it much attention as he sneaks glances over at the person next to him.

It still feels weird as fuck that he’s just… here. Making himself at home in Jesse’s house, like that’s not a heinous breach of everything their relationship was prior to last night. A business relationship. Jesse doesn’t mind it - quite the contrary - but it still feels alien to him, and he’s not sure he’s ready to answer whatever questions might come up about it.

He likes Saul. Last night’s phone call was a weed-induced lapse in judgement, but not a mistake, and Saul’s presence really did help him sleep better. He doesn’t want to read into that, but he doesn’t have to, because the meaning isn’t really hidden below the surface.

He wonders what Saul is thinking. He definitely doesn’t seem like he regrets coming over, and he doesn’t even seem to find their situation strange, which is just baffling to him. What Jesse really wonders is does Saul want that to happen again? Does he want more of Jesse?

Jesse thinks he himself would be more than okay with that. The thought had honestly never occurred to him before last night, but having seen Saul in a situation outside of work… yeah. He would’ve been willing last night, for sure, if he hadn’t been so anxious. He’s glad nothing happened, though, because he thinks it would’ve seemed like that’s why he invited Saul over. It then occurs to him that maybe Saul was actually _expecting_ him to make a move and not just cuddle, and he chokes on his breakfast.

“Jesus, kid, slow down,” Saul says with a concerned chuckle as he pats Jesse’s back firmly. “Drink some water or something.”

Jesse does and it helps. “Uh, thanks.” Saul waves a hand in dismissal, but he can’t help feeling a little embarrassed.

“Yo, Saul?” He figures he may as well start the conversation, because it seems like Saul isn’t going to.

“Mhm?” Saul hums around his last forkful of breakfast, getting up to take their plates to the sink.

“Thank you. For breakfast, and for coming over last night.”

Saul walks back in and sits down, watching with sudden interest the lions on the screen in front of them. “Don’t mention it, kid. You’re good company. And hey, I slept like a baby last night too, so it was what they call a ‘win-win’ situation.” He taps his fingers on his knee, and Jesse realizes he’s nervous. He smiles softly to himself.

“Yeah.” Jesse tells himself it’s not a big deal, he doesn’t have to make it into a big deal.

“Can I um. Lean on you?” As soon as he says it out loud he realizes that’s a weird thing to ask, and he feels like jumping into a river. But Saul just scoots in closer and opens his arms, wrapping them around him loosely and pulling him in.

He sighs contentedly and watches the group of lionesses hunt. They’re trying to separate a weak zebra from the herd, but so far no such luck. Jesse quietly roots for the zebras. He wonders who Saul is rooting for.

At some point he notices Saul’s hand is moving, skating up and down Jesse’s arm in a gentle gesture that makes Jesse feel like softened butter. The other arm is wrapped around his waist.

Jesse turns to glance at his face and sees a soft look there, something like contentment. He looks a little longer, trying to memorize the way Saul wears it, and he’s caught staring. He feels his face heat up tellingly but still can’t bring himself to look away.

Jesse feels warm and flustered and it must get the best of him because before he knows what he’s doing, his lips are on Saul’s.

At first, Jesse thinks he fucked up. Majorly. Saul freezes under his advance, arm stilling. But after a moment Saul responds, lips moving gently and slowly in time with his own. He tastes like syrup and Jesse can’t help but smile at that.

Jesse pulls away to survey his face. He finds what he was looking for and leans back in, the butterflies in his stomach migrating to his head and making him dizzy with sensation as his lips move in delicate tandem with the other man’s.

When he eventually breaks the kiss and snuggles back into Saul’s side, he’s the happiest he’s been in a very long time.


End file.
